Whatever Happened to Draco Malfoy?
by Hamm On Wry
Summary: [ON HIATUS]After Draco flees Hogwarts, he is forced into exile and stripped of his magic. But a good Slytherin doesn't let a little thing like the end of his world keep him down! DracoOC Best Defense AU
1. Draco the Muggle

_Disclaimer: You know the drill, JKR owns it all, I own nothing but my imagination._

A/N: This story is part of my AU of "The Best Defense" and follows "Whatever Happened to Severus Snape?" The Best Defense is on hold for a few weeks while I am recovering files, but there is enough written to catch you up to here, and the WHTSS is a one shot complete. This takes place six years after the final battle

**Chapter 1**

**Draco the Muggle**

_Gloucester, MA_

Draco Malfoy left the pier and returned to his car with the empty urn that had held his mother's ashes. Although the official cause of death had been listed as breast cancer, Draco knew that Narcissa had really died of a broken heart. Six years in exile, not only barred from doing magic, but also having a magic aversion spell performed on both of them had really pushed Draco's mother over the edge and caused her to lose her will to live. When she was diagnosed, she refused all methods of treatment and had let nature take its course.

"_Nature, my arse,"_ thought Draco as he climbed into his green and silver Avanti convertible. _"One quick healing spell would have cured her, but the mind blocks were just too deep. The ruddy bastards stole my heritage, my fortune, and my family. The only thing they haven't taken is my life."_ He looked down at his forearm where the Dark Mark used to be. When Voldemort had been executed by Harry Potter, the mark had all but disappeared. What little evidence was left was so faded that Draco could claim it as a birthmark.

Draco had not done badly for himself since coming to America. Being naturally intelligent to begin with, he had earned his Master's Degree at Harvard School of Business in a short four years. He had then been recruited by a high powered securities trading firm to work out of their Boston office. A little over a year later, he was the top producer and in line for a vice-presidency. There was just something about that cultured British accent that connected with the Bostonian upper crust. He knew that there was something missing in his life however, and he was using the medium of money to try to fill in that gap.

Turning onto I-95 North, he headed towards the New Hampshire border. A scant hour and a half later, he pulled off the turnpike onto Route 9 heading to Kennebunkport, Maine. He really didn't feel like attending the party at his boss' summer home, but it was part of the game that he had to play in order to advance. And Draco Malfoy was very good at the game. The Armani suits, the hand-crafted convertible, and the dull parties with the insipid females who were constantly trying to sink their hooks into him, Draco would have none of that. He may not be able to perform magic now, but he would be damned if he would pollute his bloodline with a muggle. He never let his distain show however, and was so charming in his brush offs that no one ever complained. The only problem about that method was that some of the females in the office were whispering that he must be gay.

Draco knew that he would have to be aggressive in stopping that particular rumour. As 'enlightened' and liberal as the people in Boston claimed to be, that was a stigma that could wreck his career. Many of the clients he dealt with were 'old money', conservative Bostonians who could trace their ancestry back to the Mayflower and beyond. They were not part of the liberal population that was in the majority in this state.

Pulling up to the front of the house, Draco tossed the keys to the valet and instructed him, "No rasguñe la pintura". This was said with a smile and a ten dollar tip. The 'undocumented worker' took the keys and the tip, nodded his head and replied, "Si, Senor", then drove the Avanti carefully around to the parking area. Draco thought that having the flood of illegal immigrants was pretty handy, they worked almost as cheaply as house-elves. At that thought, his stomach took a sudden lurch. This was the effect of the magic aversion spell. He quickly cleared his mind and his nausea faded. It was funny how this spell seemed to work. He could think about his past, but if he thought of something that would change his circumstances, then the spell would kick in. One day he had seen a strange newspaper with moving pictures which had been carelessly discarded on the street. When he reached to pick it up, it had burnt his fingers just as if he had stuck his hand in an open flame. The sight of the photo had also caused his stomach to lurch strongly.

Striding up to the door, he was greeted by Henri's butler, Jamison, another transplant from the UK. British butlers and central American service staff seemed to be all the rage now. After handing his lightweight duster to the maid, Jamison brought him in and announced him.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy, Boston." A few heads turned in his direction, including that of an attractive young lady whom he had never before seen. She was standing next to Henri, and Draco made his way over to greet his host.

"Draco, glad you could make it. I would like you to meet the head of our Montreal office, Mlle. Adriana LeFavre. She has come down here specifically to meet you." Draco took Adriana's hand and brushed his lips against the back of it.

"Charmed. And to what do I owe this honor?" Draco cocked an eyebrow up in question.

"Mr. Malfoy. I am here to tell you that the company has watched your performance, and has taken a great liking to the way that you conduct business. They have asked me to assist you on your next step up the ladder, that being North American cross-currency markets. They would like to break new ground with your clients in Boston, promoting Canadian corporation's stocks and debt instruments. This market has been sorely neglected in the past." This with a withering look at Henri. Draco's boss looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Realizing quickly what side of the toast that this butter was on, Draco gave his most disarming smile and said, "Sounds like a wonderful opportunity. When do we start?" Draco had sized up the situation and seen that Henri was on the company's unofficial 'bad boy' list. This could mean that Draco could have an opportunity to capture control of Henri's job. This did not bother him in the least. He liked Henri, as well as he could like any muggle, but business was business, and Draco would cheerfully throw his boss over the rail in order to advance properly.

"Would next Monday morning be alright with you? The company would be paying your expenses while you are in Montreal. I can have the reservations at the extended stay hotel set for Sunday night. This will give you a week to tidy things up in Boston and arrange for someone to feed your cat, so to speak." She gave a titter of amusement.

"That would be fine, however I don't keep pets. They tend to be too needy. I would just like to make sure my clients are well served while I am gone."

"That is not a problem; we would just have all your calls transferred to your voice mail, just as if you were on vacation. You can spend this week notifying your clients that you will be out of town for a couple of weeks, and give them the option of dealing with another broker during your absence."

Draco noted that Henri looked decidedly uncomfortable. He wondered if his boss would grab the golden parachute and bail before he could be fired. Henri was certainly wealthy enough, he could afford to take his retirement and live in comfort for the rest of his life. Draco expected that he would not be seeing too much of Henri in the future. This was fine with him, Henri's problems were Henri's problems. Draco had problems of his own to worry about. With that, Draco and Adriana exchanged cards and agreed to speak later.

The rest of the party was more of the same mind-numbing ritual that Draco had been forced to endure during the past year or so. The same vapid girls, no more than arm candy, the same crowing from the testosterone-challenged men about their latest conquests. Draco would look for any excuse to escape gracefully. He walked out onto the terrace with his drink to take in some fresh air. The house was filled with cigar smoke, something which Draco detested. He could see no sense in why successful muggles insisted on sucking the smoke from burning leaves into their bodies, ruining them a mouthful at a time. Hearing a noise, he turned and saw Adriana LeFavre coming up behind him.

"I see that I'm not the only one the walls were closing in on." He smiled and gave a short bow. Adriana however, was interested in more than just Draco's obvious physical assets.

"Draco, I need to ask you, are you any relation to the Malfoys who do their banking at Diagon Alley in London?"

Draco started, shocked. "How do you know about Diagon Alley?" He hissed.

"Don't get so excited. The very fact that you know about Diagon Alley tells me that you are, in fact, related to the Wizarding House of Malfoy. Are you also a squib?"

_A/N: And so starts the new adventures of Draco Malfoy, the most divisive character in the whole Potterverse. I never thought that I would be doing a Draco story, I have always considered him a cut-and-paste bad guy with no real depth. (author ducks incoming spells, hexes, shoes and rotten vegetables) Recently however, I have been thinking that with Voldy gone, there needs to be some conflict, just to keep the heroes on their toes. This will be a multi-chapter story._


	2. Adrianna

_Disclaimer: The Potterverse is owned by JKR, I just snuck in under the fence to play in her sandbox._

_A/N: I forgot to put in the Spanish translation of the phrase that Draco used with the auto valet. It means "Don't scratch the paint"_

**Chapter 2**

**Adrianna**

_Kennebunkport, Maine_

"_Draco, I need to ask you, are you any relation to the Malfoys who do their banking at Diagon Alley in London?"_

Draco started, shocked. "How do you know about Diagon Alley?" He hissed.

"Don't get so excited. The very fact that you know about Diagon Alley tells me that you are, in fact, related to the Wizarding House of Malfoy. Are you also a squib?"

Draco looked at Adriana in shock. Not only because of her statements, but because of the fact that the magic aversion spell did absolutely nothing. Apparently he could interact with Squibs.

Not bothering to deny the assertion, he asked, "How do you know of my family?"

"Oh, my family and yours have had dealings, mutually satisfying by the way, for over 100 years. The LeFavre family is an old, pureblood family from the Continent. When I was found to be a squib, I was sent to Montreal for schooling, and just never went back. There was really no place for me there. What is your story though? Are you a squib? I know that you are pureblood, so unless you are a squib, you probably have an interesting story."

"You don't know the half of it. You have heard of the Dark Lord, Voldemort?"

"Yes, what about him?"

Draco thought a moment before answering. His career, even though the real reason would never be known, could shipwreck on his reply. "My father was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's confidants. I did something stupid and gained Voldemort's disfavor. Along with my mother, I was forced to flee from the UK and Europe. We were forced to undergo a magic aversion spell and the restricting of our powers. That has been six years now."

"Well, now that Voldemort is dead, can't you go back?"

"I wouldn't have anything to go back to. My family's estate was stripped from us by the Ministry, my mother is dead, she just died last week. We sent a message back to the Ministry asking if we could return," Draco remembered the racking pain that had resulted from the aversion spell, "But what they sent back was not promising."

"What was their response?"

"They basically said that since we were considered Death Eaters, they had a couple of open spots if we wanted to be executed by being pushed through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. Not exactly the best of negotiating positions. No, I have resigned myself to being exiled here under the protection of the Americans. I will probably need to inform the Canadians that I will be in their territory. I can't really afford to have anyone pissed off at me."

"That should be no problem. Just tell them that you will be working with me. I may be a squib, but the LeFavre's are a well respected family in all French-speaking areas. I have regular contact with the Quebec Ministry. You do know that Quebec is separate from the rest of Canada, at least in the magical world."

At the words, 'magical world', Draco's stomach gave a huge lurch, and almost caused him to lose his dinner, lunch and breakfast. Adriana put a comforting hand on his shoulder while he cleared his mind. _"Damn this spell!"_ he thought.

"Ooh, you have it really bad, don't you?" Adriana asked in a low voice.

"Very bad. The first year, I was pretty much bent over a toilet before I learned to clear my mind. Now it is a rare occurrence. I normally don't have any problem unless I think about or ask about something that could restore my powers."

"Well, you won't need the 'M' word, " she said this with a smile, "in Montreal. In fact, the cross-border investing is just as mind numbing as what you have been doing. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, and I'm very good at what I do, however it would be nice to be able to manipulate these markets with a little…. Oomph. As it is, one reason that the, uh, other world, accepts me so well is that I handle their muggle investments. And have expanded quite a few fortunes and made many new wealthy families."

"Fascinating. Just don't tell me who is who on these accounts. I don't think that you would want the mess in your office when I start throwing up like a newly pregnant woman."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, I keep my clients safe and secure. No one handles those accounts but me. For now, I'm going to go ahead and leave here, I have a lot of preparations to make in the next week, over and above my regular duties. I shall bid you good-night, Mr. Malfoy." She held out her hand and Draco brushed his lips over it, this time with much more enthusiasm.

On the drive back to Boston, Draco was excited. He didn't have to be some sort of celibate freak. He may not be a magic using wizard, but it seemed that he would not have to consort with muggles for companionship. He had never before considered squibs. Although they had no more magic than muggles, they were not muggles, and therefore any squib from a pureblood family would still carry the Wizarding genes, even if they were dormant. He could even have magical offspring! The possibilities were endless. He might even someday be able to apply for a pardon. It would not bring his family estates back, but there were other ways to make money and build a fortune. He had the drive to succeed, the Sorting Hat had seen that when it sorted him into Slytherin. Draco had pleasant daydreams all the way home, those where he built a new Malfoy Dynasty. His offspring could carry on his legacy.

Pulling into his townhouse garage, Draco gave his car a quick rubdown, something that he had done every day since he purchased it. After all, it just wouldn't do for the Golden Boy of Henner and French brokerage agency to be seen with a mud-splattered, rusty hulk. The Avanti, although not the most expensive car on the road, was a unique vehicle, one that spoke to his class and status. There were but a few hundred made every year, handcrafted to order. Giving the car a critical last look, he shut off the light and went inside to plan his future. A much brighter future than he previously thought that he had.


	3. Transitions

_Disclaimer: JKR owns the Potterverse, I make no money from this at all….dammit!_

**Chapter 3**

**Transitions**

_Henner and French, LTD_

_Montreal, Quebec, Canada_

Draco had made an immediate impression at the Montreal office. He threw himself into the cross-border trading with a vengeance. Each day he worked with existing, non-dedicated accounts and slowly brought the concept of Canadian trades to his own clients. By the end of the first week, he had convinced over 60 percent of his dedicated customers. He had put them all into rock-solid Canadian Blue Chip companies, nothing exciting, but with a higher rate of return than their normal US investments. Another advantage that these trades had was the exchange rate between the Canadian and United States Dollars. Draco was quickly becoming the Golden Boy at this office also, with one exception. His British accent did not serve him as well with the French Canadians as it did the Bostonians back home. They were just not very impressed, the result of a long standing political feud. Adriana explained that the French speakers considered themselves Quebecois first and Canadians second. Draco began handling English speakers culled from the Toronto and Ottawa offices. His production rate immediately skyrocketed.

"_Good thing, my French is atrocious_" Draco thought. Adriana had thought that it was 'amusing' to hear Draco stumble through French. She told him that if he were to stay in Quebec, he would need to enroll in a Berlitz language course.

"Draco, are you about finished for the day?" Adriana asked.

"Just about. I need to make about 3 more calls to clients who keep late hours, then I can head back to my lonely room and watch the four walls." Draco said this with an exaggerated puppy dog look, clearly having fun.

"Maybe not so lonely. If you have a little time, I would like to speak with you about your future. How about dinner at _Toque_? My treat."

"I'm not really familiar with the local eateries here, how do I get there?"

"It's over on Jean-Paul Riopelle Place. I'll come over to your suite and we can go from there. I've been wanting a chance to ride in that car. For American engineering, it is surprisingly good looking."

"Ride in it? You may drive it if you wish. It would probably be best, you know where you're going."

"Great! I'll let you alone to make your calls, and I'll see you at seven at your place. I'll go ahead and call in our reservations." Adriana struck an airy pose. "I am, after all, a 'favored customer'" This said with an assumed heavy French accent.

Draco laughed. "Alright, seven it is."

_Later that evening_

"I must say, the food was exquisite. I was expecting a lot of food with heavy sauces, standard French fare. I was pleasantly surprised with the food, quite eclectic. The razor clams with the marinated shitake was superb. But to change the subject, you said that you wanted to discuss my future, a subject with which I have great fondness."

"It actually has to do with both of us. Draco, how would you like to stay up here in Montreal for a while. I would like to acquaint you with…other areas of our work here. And to be frank, I would like to get to know you better. Even though I'm a squib, I still believe in the whole pureblood philosophy. I simply don't date muggles, but most of the Wizarding families that I deal with look at me more as a pet, or just someone to help them get richer. I enjoy talking with you, I don't have to deny or hide my background like I do with all of the others I work with."

"And I guess that a powerless wizard is better than none at all? I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that. I am just feeling sorry for myself. Actually, Adriana, I would like to get to know you a lot better. I felt an attraction towards you the first time we met. And I have the same feelings about mixing with muggles. I will be honest, I had never thought about squibs much, at least not until we met. But you are an exceptional woman, and it doesn't really matter that you are a squib and I am a wizard that has been squibbed. We could still build a dynasty. And it would be a dynasty that would stretch across both worlds."

Adriana reached across and took Draco's hand. "Why don't we continue this conversation at my place? I have a nice bottle of some outrageously expensive wine that we could decant to celebrate. Or for a bit more eclectic taste, I also have a full stock of butterbeer, firewhisky and mead from Scotland."

"What about Henri? Don't you think that he will have some issues with me transferring here all of a sudden?"

"Henri is hanging on to his job by his fingernails. Every time he looks at you, he sees you sitting in his chair, in his corner office. The longer that you stay up here, the longer he can keep the illusion that he is irreplaceable. Trust me, he will fall down on his knees and thank whatever deity he can think of when he finds that you will be here a bit longer."

"Well, in that case, why don't we head on over to your place. It has been so long since I had the simple pleasure of a butterbeer that I have almost forgotten the taste." With that, Adriana paid the bill and they left.

They had gone back to Adriana's house and settled in for a long talk. The butterbeer had been good, although Adriana had acquired the American/Canadian taste for ice cold beer, something that Draco had never gotten used to. After a bottle, he had switched to hot, mulled mead. It was not quite as good as Madam Rosmerta's, but still very good. After all of the time he had spent with and around muggles, it was a relief to be able to just talk with someone of like heritage, and not have to be so guarded, as if his very background were somehow shameful.

Sometime after midnight, Draco had fallen asleep in a large overstuffed recliner chair, something that he thought should be standard equipment in every home. A combination of the mead, the wonderful dinner, and the relaxation that he felt around Adriana had served to break down his defenses. Adriana took a large couch blanket out of the closet and placed it over him, then went into the kitchen.

Draco would have been surprised that she was not alone, in fact his entire performance at Adriana's house had been closely watched. As she entered the kitchen, a man who looked like a taller, male version of Adriana came out from beneath an invisibility cloak.

"_Soeur, vous avez fait bien."_ (Sister, you have done well) The tall man was Claude, the older brother of Adriana. Claude was the closest to Adriana in her family, and was very protective of his little sister. He had almost resigned himself to his sister never having a relationship since she refused to date muggles, and did not really have any prospects in the Wizarding world. Squibs were few and far between in this area of the world, and most of them were either bitter about being denied magic, or had little to do with the Wizarding world. Adriana was rare in that she had bridged the gap between the two.

"Merci, Claude. I believe that he may be the one. I know I am not magical, but I can't deny that I felt a real attraction the first time that I met him. He is a couple of years younger than I, but women live longer than men anyway."

"Cherie, the age does not matter. Your young beau, from what I have heard, has been living on borrowed time for the last 6 years. I need to know though, are you absolutely sure that you want me to do this thing? After all, he might decide that he doesn't need you anymore."

"_Frère_, who can be absolutely sure about anything? I do know that I need to be able to speak with him about any subject without him getting sick or avoiding me because of that accursed spell. And there may come a time when I need him to meet the family." This with a wink. "And I don't want him throwing up whenever he sees my loved ones. It would make a terrible impression."

"Very well. It will be done." Claude put the cloak back around him, slipped into the living room, pointed his wand at Draco and softly said, **_"HAUD MAGIS AN ALIENUS"_**, then quietly went back into the kitchen.

"It is finished. I must go now, I am supposed to be back at the estate in a short time. Please take care and keep me informed. I will let Mother and Grandfather know what is happening." He gave Adriana a kiss on the cheek, whispered good-night, then quietly slipped outside to appirate away.

A/N: So Draco has had the magic aversion spell lifted. He is still a squibbed wizard, however he can now deal with wizards.

The restaurant Toque is a real place and the Razor Clams with the Shitake mushrooms are to die for. I have no financial stake in this business, other than having spent money there.

**_HAUD MAGIS AN ALIENUS_** No more an Alien


	4. Moving Day

_Disclaimer: JKR STILL owns it all!! I just snuck in under the fence to play in her yard._

**Chapter 4**

**Moving Day**

_The Braintree Manor Apartments_

_Boston, MA _

Draco had come back to Boston for a week to shut down his townhouse and to oversee the movers who were packing his belongings for the move to Montreal. Adriana had gone to bat for him, and the company had given him a nice relocation package. They paid the balance of his lease in Boston and were paying for the movers to take his belongings to the new flat in the same building where Adriana leased. He had gotten a 3 bedroom place, an upper loft. Draco loved the area, looking a couple of miles at the slightly gloomy skyline of Montreal. It reminded him a lot of home, other than all of the French speakers and the insane manner of driving. Unlike a British muggle however, he really didn't have much experience when it came to traffic in his old home.

"Be careful with that trunk, mate." He said. The mover nodded in assent. That trunk held most of the rare furnishings from the former Malfoy Manor. His mother had shrunken them down and put them in the trunk prior to fleeing England. And with the magic aversion spell, they had never gotten around to putting them right again. Instead, he had furnished his townhouse with tastefully expensive muggle-built furnishings. Remembering something else, he sniggered. Narcissa had loaded every piece of furniture with Gold Galleons, her 'emergency fund'. There was enough money in that trunk to support him in any lifestyle that he wanted, along with a few generations of offspring. The only problem is that it was as untouchable as the furniture.

"_It would be nice to have some magical movers, someone who could just wave a wand and change everything back."_ He panicked for a second, expecting the aversion spell to attack him. When it didn't he cocked an eyebrow. _"Interesting"_, he thought.

Before he had time to explore that train of thought, one of the mover's helpers dropped a box of dishes and the moving truck owner lost his temper at the helper, threatening to dock his pay for the cost. Draco smiled, content to watch the show. The dishes were relatively cheap, he didn't really care if they used them as Frisbees, he would just replace them when he got to Canada, probably with better quality goods.

On a personal note, his relationship with Adriana was going very well. Although they had tried to be very discreet, tongues were wagging in the Montreal and Boston offices. Adriana had staked out her territory as far as Draco was concerned, and the other females had, with some measure of disappointment, decided that he was off limits. This was a wonderful relief for Draco, it dispelled the rumor that he might be gay, and stopped the constant advances from the muggle girls in the office. There was still a slight bit of flirting from the girls, but not serious, and never where Adriana could catch wind of it.

The company brass had not been quite so understanding however. Adriana had been called in and read the riot act by the head of Human Resources about her 'office romance.' She had pulled out her client list, the ones that had tens of millions of dollars invested by Wizarding families, then told the HR git in no uncertain terms that those clients were loyal to her personally, not to the company, and to back off or she would take herself, Draco, and her clients to another brokerage. When the HR head had invoked the non-compete clause, Adriana pulled out her copy of the employment contract, one that mysteriously had no non-compete clause. She had explained to Draco that a relative had made a small revision in the contract, both hers and the company's, prior to her signing it. This was for the protection of the wizarding families. All of this convinced the company that what they had was a fight not worth pursuing. She also explained that she would be very unhappy if action were to be taken against Draco. After reviewing production records, the company decided that whatever made these two happy could be tolerated, if not encouraged.

"_She would have made a great Slytherin_," Draco thought to himself. He reminded himself not to get on her bad side. It was also nice the way that his transfer had worked out with his clients. When they had been notified that Draco was transferring to Montreal, they had been given a choice of having their accounts assigned to a new broker or having him remain the agent for their accounts in Montreal. Draco had been pleased when his clients, in no uncertain terms, told the company that they would stay with Draco even if he transferred to Outer Mongolia. They knew a good agent when they met one, and Draco had improved their portfolios to the point where, in their eyes, he could do no wrong.

His belongings now out on the truck, he did the walk through with the apartment manager and gave her his new address so that she could send his deposit. She expressed her sympathy over the loss of Narcissa, and told him how much she would miss him. He and his mother had been the type of tenants that landlords dreamed about. Quiet, clean and seldom seen or heard from, he would always have a place to return to if he ever decided to come back to Boston. Draco thought to himself that that would be unlikely, however he never burned bridges behind him if he could help it.

Getting in his car, he drove to his bank, where he withdrew all of his money and closed his accounts. He did this rather than wiring the money to his new account in Montreal, he could get a much better exchange rate this way. The new bank in Canada had been very accommodating once they had checked his financial situation. They had issued him debit cards and low interest credit cards on the spot, not even giving him the usual Quebecois sneer over his mangling of the French dialect. The branch manager had also become very friendly when Draco told him that he wanted to find an immersion course in French so that he would fit in better, giving him the names of several schools where he could take night courses. He had finally decided on a Berlitz course that would be starting in a few days.

Getting back in his car, he stopped for gas and some munchies, grabbing a large Dr. Pepper, a half dozen chocolate bars and a four-pack of Doubleshot Espresso. The espressos were downed in quick order to help charge him up for the 5 ½ hour trip. Taking the entrance ramp onto I-93, he put a CD of the Weird Sisters that Adriana had given him and settled back to enjoy the trip.

Four and a half hours later, he crossed the border just north of St. Albans, handing the immigration officer his US passport and his Canadian work permit. While standing there while the customs officers did a quick search of his car, he began to feel uncomfortable, the result of drinking the litre of Dr. Pepper and the espressos without having made a bathroom break. When he was released from customs with a cheery "Welcome to Canada, Mr. Malfoy," he immediately pulled into a parking lot and practically ran into the restaurant to use their facilities.

Leaving the restroom, he was assaulted with the aromas coming from the kitchen, and decided to grab a quick bite to hold him over. Sliding onto a counter stool, he glanced over the menu and made his choice. When the waitress arrived, he ordered a LaBatt 50 ale and the grilled halibut steak with a side salad.

Sipping his beer while waiting for the food to arrive, he was startled to see a slightly built man sit down next to him. The man did not look unusual, but there was something about him, something that Draco could not really define.

"I happened to see you when you drove up. Very nice car you have there." Draco thanked him politely, but really was not looking for a conversation at that point. "The music that you were playing was interesting though, I think that I have heard them before, but I'm not sure."

"I would be surprised if you had heard them, they are a British group that is not really very well known called the Weird Sisters. I got the CD from a friend who had gotten it from England."

"The Weird Sisters? Of course! I have heard their music before. I just didn't know they were doing crossover music. By the way, my name is Jean Bernard. I'm from St. Isisdore, just outside Montreal. I'm an antiques dealer."

"Draco Malfoy. I'm a stockbroker, just moved up here from Boston, although I'm originally from the UK." Draco didn't know why he was so comfortable with this man, but he assumed that it was just the salesman in him kicking in. He handed Jean his card.

"Oh, yes. I know your company well. I have an account there with Adriana LeFavre. Do you know her?"

"She is my mentor and my boss there. In fact, she is the reason that I am here. I am curious about something though. You said something about the Weird Sisters doing 'crossover music'. What did you mean by that?"

"Uh.. well, they usually do music for, well, a very small group of devotees of their genre. Somewhat unusual group. Anyway, I need to be going, and it looks like your food is coming. Mr. Malfoy, I bid you adieu. We will probably meet sometime when I am at your firm, or you are welcome to come by and see me at my shop." He handed Draco his card and made a hasty exit.

"_That is about the oddest thing to happen to me lately",_ thought Draco. As he dug into the excellent food, he thought that he would have to ask Adriana about her unusual client.


	5. Taking a Chance

_A/N: I know that I said that I would not be doing any updating until after my surgery, but I had this already on my hard drive… I have written a few chapters ahead on this one, all I need to do is convert from HTML…_

**Chapter 5**

**Taking a Chance**

_Draco's Flat_

_Montreal, PQ_

_Six months later_

Draco entered his apartment, hurriedly tossed off his working clothes and jumped in the shower. He needed to get ready for his date with Adriana, it was to be a very special date. They were going to the theatre to see 'Cats', then out for a late dinner at Toque. Draco thought since the date was so special, the perfect place to go would be the restaurant that they had gone to on their first date.

In the past 6 months, Draco and Adriana had become quite the item, the best working team that the company had ever seen. The original objections to their office romance had completely disappeared as they took sales productions figures in the office to heights never before seen in the international brokerage. Along the way, they had done very well for themselves as well.

Tying the tuxedo's bow tie, Draco looked around the apartment and gave a sigh of contentment. All of his furnishings were now straight out of Malfoy Manor. Adriana had arraigned to have a local wizard shrink down his muggle furnishings so that he could store them in his trunk, then she and Draco had placed the miniature pieces from the trunk in their proper places. Draco had then left the apartment and the wizard had come in and restored the antiques to their proper size. After the wizard had left and Draco had returned, he and Adriana went through every piece, removed the Galleons and packed them in leather tote bags. Adriana had taken the bags to the local branch of Gringott's and opened a new vault account in Draco's name to store the money in. Draco was now very wealthy, even though he could not access his wizarding money himself. He actually thought that it was a bit humorous that a squib had more control over his money than he did, but he trusted Adriana.

Heading downstairs to Adriana's flat, he knocked, and when she answered, drew her into a long, deep kiss. She grabbed her purse, locked the door, and headed arm-in-arm down to the garage. Handing her the keys, Draco opened the door for her, then climbed in the passenger side. Whenever possible, he had her drive. He still hated Montreal traffic, and she was a real master of it. All he had to do was hang on while she took them where they wanted to go. Adriana loved the Avanti and often spoke of ordering one for herself. The only problem was that there were no dealers in Canada, let alone Quebec. She did not know it, but Draco had a surprise for her. He had ordered a new Avanti for her at the dealer in New Jersey and was just waiting on delivery. He had been drawing her out for the past few weeks, playing the 'what if' game, asking her which options that she would put on her car, what colors, etc. He then called the dealer and ordered the car to those exact specifications.

Having thoroughly enjoyed the play, they made a mad dash to Toque for their meal. Draco ordered a bottle of Ontario Province's finest wine, then they made small talk until their meal arrived. He had ordered the same razor clams that he ate the first night, while Adriana had a superb lobster fettuccini. After the meal, Draco ordered a brandy and sprang his surprise.

"Adriana, we have become closer than I ever thought that I could become with anyone. I have grown to love you and I cannot see myself living without you." All around their table conversation quieted, as people stopped to discreetly eavesdrop. After all, Draco and Adriana made such an attractive couple that something like this could give people a nice story to tell their kids, no matter how it turned out.

"Darling, I have also grown to love you, and I feel the same way. We make a terrific team, and not just in business. With you I feel alive and vital." Adriana had a small tear glistening in her eye. She had an idea where this conversation was going and planned to enjoy every second of it.

Pulling a small velvet case from his pocket, Draco opened it, revealing a 4 carat diamond set on a white gold ring. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" The silence around them was electric with anticipation.

"Yes, yes! A thousand times yes!" Applause broke out at the surrounding tables, but so wrapped up were they in each others eyes, Draco and Adriana did not notice. The world at that moment consisted of only the two of them. Slipping the ring on her finger, Draco drew her into a heartfelt kiss. All around them were men and women silently cheering them on while at the same time giving them envious looks.

After paying the bill with his debit card, Draco took the arm of his now-betrothed and guided her out to the car. This time he drove, the traffic being much better at this hour. He quickly made it to their building and invited Adriana up for a nightcap. While she settled down on the sofa, Draco poured her a glass of Madam Rosmerta's finest aged mead. This had been a gift from Adriana a couple of months ago. She had one of her relatives in the UK obtain it and send it over.

Draco and Adriana talked well into the night. At some point they pulled out pieces of paper and pens and started drawing their family trees back as far as they could. Although Draco had pretty much lost his vicious streak and Adriana never really had one, blood was important to both their families. By the time they got back 5 generations, they were both very tipsy. Adriana began to stand, then lost her balance and fell back into Draco's arms.

"Trying to trap me? Oh, you brute!" Adriana had a silly smile on her face, letting Draco know that she would be perfectly happy to be trapped in his arms for the rest of her life.

"But of course! I have you in my power, there is no escape."

"No escape? How horrid! In that case, I better get close to my captor so he will begin to treasure me. A reverse Stockholm Syndrome" She gazed deep in his eyes and ran her tongue gently around her lips. Draco got the hint and, cupping her head in his hands, gave her a long, deep kiss, something that Adriana returned with gusto. Relaxing into each other's arms, they drifted off to sleep. Neither of them noticed the door quietly opening and closing as someone in an invisibility cloak slipped out, leaving them to their dreams.

_LeFavre Mansion_

_Paris, France_

"So, Claude, what do you have to report?" The speaker was Pierre LeFavre, present patriarch of the LeFavre family. He was a white-haired, vital wizard who had just celebrated his 92nd birthday and still went to work every day at the Ministry's Foreign Affairs section. The LeFavre family were the diplomats of the French Wizarding world, and as such wielded a great deal of power and influence. They were also masters of espionage, since diplomacy sometimes needed help.

"Our little Adriana has finally found love. I was almost discovered. I was going through his apartment and looking for anything that did not agree with his story, but he seems to be exactly what he says he is. He is definitely Draco Malfoy, the last of the Malfoy family. I am also sure that he loves my sister very much. He has entrusted her with all of his wizarding money, while it is not of the amount of wealth of his ancestors, it is still enough to make him very wealthy in most circles. His muggle bank accounts are also very healthy. He just ordered a $40,000 custom auto as a gift for Adriana, apparently because she likes the one that he owns. The biggest news however is that he has proposed marriage to her and she has accepted. She was wearing a nice, but very tasteful engagement ring. They were sitting talking and planning their future for hours. I finally whispered a nice spell that made them drift off to sleep so I could make my exit."

"So when do we meet this young man?" This from Adriana's mother, Marissa.

"I believe that we should give Adriana a chance to 'surprise' us with the news of her impending nuptials before we make a move. This will ensure that she does not find out about my friendly snooping"

"Very good," Pierre said. I want you to send off a falcon to Rene in London and have him do some investigation into the Ministry situation in Britain. Find out just how serious the Ministry there is about Mr. Malfoy and how hard they would be looking to bring him to their idea of 'justice'. Also I would like your assessment on how he would fit in the family business if he had no restrictions on him. Use a glamour so he does not recognize you at a later date. Also use our contacts in the Quebec Ministry to see what we can do to improve his residence status."

"As you say, Grand-père. Mother." He nodded at his grandfather and mother, then made his exit.


	6. Old Enemies

**Chapter 6**

**Old Enemies**

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

_Ministry of Magic_

_London, UK_

"Mr. Potter, Ambassador LeFavre is here to see you." Harry's secretary was impressed. It was not every day that an Ambassador came to this particular department, they usually conducted their business with the Foreign Affairs Department. It also didn't hurt that Rene LeFavre was so bloody handsome. Not to mention so cultured and poised. This image was not accidental, the LeFavre family members were the professional diplomats of the wizarding world in all French speaking countries. From Paris to Montreal to Port-Au-Prince, diplomatic conferences resembled nothing as much as a family reunion.

"Send him in". Harry had no idea what this was all about, his job was usually pretty clear cut. Find dark wizards who were breaking the laws, arrest them, and put them up for trial. He was also, as head of the Department, responsible for the correctional facilities under the Ministry building and Azkaban. He stood up to welcome his guest.

"Monsieur LeFavre, welcome to my Department. How may I serve you today?" Harry was putting on the charm, having been briefed on Rene LeFavre, and for that matter, the whole LeFavre clan. The Minister of Magic was also very curious about the Ambassador's visit.

"A minor matter, actually, Monsieur Potter. An expatriate of yours, a Mr. Draco Malfoy, has come into our sphere of interest. What can you tell me about him?" "_Damn these Brits,"_ Rene thought to himself. _" Doesn't even offer me a drink or anything. This Potter would never make a diplomat"_

Harry froze. This name from the past brought a foul taste to his mouth, and the old hatred came back for the man who was the betrayer of Dumbledore and Hogwarts. "Draco Malfoy escaped the country with both sides after his skin. He was convicted of aiding and abetting in the murder of Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School. He also, on orders from Tom Riddle, facilitated the entrance of Voldemort's Death Eaters into the school, putting the students from ages 11-17 in great danger, and causing great mayhem. He was convicted in abstention of being an accomplice to murder as well as high treason for his Death Eater activities and sentenced to death. He was also being hunted down by his Dark Master because he screwed up his assignment. His mother was under the same sentence."

Harry took a breath. "Since that time, we have had a shakeup here at our Ministry. While the trials and sentences were considered necessary under the rigors of war, and no one really questioned or regretted the harsh measures that we took, the purebloods have, since that time, argued successfully that the rights of pureblood wizards were, under law, violated in the trials and sentences. Add to that fact that Albus Dumbledore did not, as every one believed, die in the attack, and that we ended up executing a man for Dumbledore's murder not knowing that fact, and you have a huge mess as far as the Malfoys are concerned. It has been six years since the Malfoys disappeared and all of their assets were seized by the ministry and distributed to the victims of Lucius Malfoy, the patriarch of the family."

"The Malfoys are a problem that we would just as soon not have to deal with. If they came back, we would be honor bound to put them on trial, but the charges would be very hard to prove. If they were found to be not guilty, we could have a crisis that could topple this government." Harry's face hardened. "Now, Mr. Ambassador, would you please tell me how your family got mixed up with that ferret Malfoy?"

"Monsieur, I can assure you of one thing. Madam Malfoy will never again step on your shores. She died last year of breast cancer in the United States. She and her son were squibbed when they left Britain and escaped as refugees to America. They had their powers bound and had a magic aversion spell placed on them. This is the reason that she died from such a curable disease. Her son, Draco, has become a successful businessman in two countries. In this course of events, he became acquainted with a non-magical member of our family. They are romantically involved. This is our interest."

Harry contemplated this. Draco Malfoy living and working among muggles for all of this time. Life among muggles would be a worse punishment to Malfoy than a stretch in Azkaban would have been. The LeFavre relative must have seemed like a godsend, with the pureblood prejudices that Malfoy had. If he had managed to become a successful businessman among muggles, them perhaps he had made some changes. Harry found himself suddenly very interested in someone he had hoped to never again see.

"Monsieur LeFavre, you have piqued my interest. I don't know how long your family has known Draco Malfoy, but I knew him for six long years. The Draco Malfoy who I knew was a vicious, scheming, little ferret. Add to that the fact that he was a blood bigot who followed his father into the family hobby of being a Death Eater, and you had quite a unpleasant package. If Draco has become a businessman, I would have one piece of advice for you."

"And what would that be, Mr. Potter?"

"If he shakes your hand…."

"Yes?"

"Count your fingers afterward to make sure you still have them all".

Rene LeFavre left the Ministry building with a much lighter step. This Malfoy fiancée of Adriana's would be quite an asset, once the Brits were convinced of the error of their ways. According to his worst enemy, Draco was ambitious, cagy, sly, and ruthless in obtaining his goals. Not only that, he was one of a dying breed, a wizard who appreciated the importance of maintaining a pure blood line. _Grand-père_ would be very happy indeed. Rene hurried back to his Embassy in order to send a falcon back to Paris.


	7. Too Much Information

**Chapter 7**

**Too Much Information**

_Draco's Apartment_

_Montreal, PQ _

_Three weeks later_

Draco sat back in his new recliner, popped the cap off a bottle of LaBatt's ale, and began scanning the channels on his television. This was an unusual evening for him, actually turning on the TV, but Adriana was out of the country for a few days. She had received a call from her mother and immediately hopped a plane to Paris. She had only been gone a day and Draco already missed her terribly. He had just settled on a French language talk show when there came a knock at his door. He shut the TV off and went to answer it.

Standing at the door was a tall, tanned man who was dressed like some sort of American cowboy. His worn blue jeans, a long sleeved plaid shirt with a blue jean vest and cowboy boots looked very out of place in urban Montreal. When he opened his mouth, a pure Texas drawl came out. Despite all of this, Draco had the impression that he knew this man from _someplace _

"Draco Malfoy?" When Draco nodded, the man smiled and introduced himself. "Dudley Dursley." The name was familiar to Draco, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out where he had heard it.

Seeing Draco's puzzled expression, the cowboy added, "Harry Potter's cousin. From Little Whinging." Now Draco was really confused. He remembered a fat muggle cousin of Potter's, but that English prat bore no resemblance to this self-assured Texan standing in front of him.

Standing aside to allow his visitor entrance, Draco commented, "I really didn't recognize you. I hope that you don't mind me saying that you have changed quite a bit."

"Yeah, that's what they tell me. Thanks."

"Would you like something to drink? And I'm curious about why you decided to look me up. How's your cousin?"

"Well, as far as the drink, if you have a beer, that would be great, if not, then just some ice water. And the reason that I am here is that Harry asked me to look you up. He heard a rumor that you had been squibbed, but were becoming quite the businessman."

"As much as I hate to say it, the rumor that he heard is true. I am as non-magical as you are. And I have become moderately successful at business. Harvard MBA in four years and haven't looked back."

"That's good, but Draco… I am not a muggle. I didn't find out until I was an adult, but I took training and also fought in the last battle against Voldemort. Harry is married to Ginny Weasley, they have 2 kids and he is head of the Aurors at the Ministry."

Draco looked at him in shock. Dursley a wizard? This had to be a case of some sort of perverted cosmic justice giving him a swift kick in the butt. And Potter being the second most powerful man in the Ministry? That he would have been able to understand, since Potter apparently took out the Dark Lord, but Dursley? Draco remembered how much Harry's aunt and uncle hated wizards.

"You being a wizard must have really driven your parents insane. I remembered how much they hated your cousin for being a wizard. But you have to tell me how Harry defeated the Dark Lord. When I came across the Atlantic, I had no more contact with any wizards, so I never heard. I just assumed that Voldemort had been defeated since the UK wasn't in flames. Either defeated or in hiding."

"The only place that Tom Riddle will be hiding is under a burning rock in hell. Harry defeated him one-on-one. He beat the living crap out of him with his fists, then he beheaded him with a katana sword. Afterwards, he took the remains and shoved them through the Veil at the Department of Mysteries. All of the Death Eaters went on the same trip. Including your aunt, Bellatrix. Neville Longbottom sent her through himself."

"Hmm… So does this mean that you are here to finish off the last of the former Death Eaters?" Underneath his bravado, Draco was scared spitless. He had finally found something good in life, and here was Potter's mudblood cousin with the ability to take it all away.

"Not at all. Relax, Malfoy. The Ministry is perfectly willing to let that part of your life just disappear. With you being squibbed and stripped of your family's legacy, you present no danger to wizarding society. And as far as they're concerned, it appears that you have been successfully rehabilitated. They are perfectly willing to maintain the status quo and let you live your life as an American or Canadian, whichever you wish. The message that I am carrying is that it would be very embarrassing for both you and the Ministry if you should ever decide to return to England. My personal advice is that you be content with being a successful immigrant, same as me. I moved to Texas after the war and never looked back. You can do the same. You have a beautiful fiancée, " Draco was shocked. How did Dursley know about Adriana? "Yes, I know about her, or at least I was briefed on your relationship. Her family had inquired about you, that's how I knew where to find you. Draco, you don't have to look over your shoulder anymore. You have made it home free."

"As long as I stay a squib in exile, you mean? Well, Dudley, I do appreciate the heads up, and I assure you that I have no intention of ever returning to England, I have found real happiness here, something I thought was impossible. I don't know what the future holds, I am no seer, but I have accepted my limitations." Changing the subject, he asked, "Can I get you another beer?"

"No thanks, one is my limit. I'm going to be driving. My wife is waiting for me back at the hotel."

"Oh, you're married now?"

"Yep, a friend introduced me to her while I was attending college in El Paso. We've been married a couple of years now. She is an absolute whiz at potions and charms."

"So, you were able to find a witch here. Good deal. Any children yet?"

"One on the way, should be here in 3 months."

"Congratulations! By the way, did you ever hear about what happened to Professor Snape?"

Dudley's face took on a sorrowful look. "I'm sorry to say that he was captured by Death Eaters and driven insane by Voldemort. They dropped him off in Diagon Alley, bound and with his wand snapped. The aurors threw him straight through the Veil for Dumbledore's murder."

Draco thought of his godfather and the impossible choice that Narcissa had driven him into. "You know, if there was one thing in my life that I would wish to change, it would be that. Growing up, I tried to emulate my father in everything. I hated Harry because I was supposed to. He was Gryffindor, I was Slytherin. I considered Dumbledore a fool because my father did. And when push came to shove, I was too weak to kill him and that forced Severus to kill him."

"Uh, Draco… I'm not sure how to break this to you, but… Dumbledore didn't die. At least not from that. He ended up in the final battle, behind the scenes. We didn't even know that he was alive until we got a notice last year that he had died of natural causes in Jamaica. He didn't even attend Harry and Ginny's wedding, at least not in person. He exiled himself out of guilt for the way he had used Harry and failed, at least in his mind, Hogwarts."

Draco's head was spinning. This was, all of a sudden, too much information. Dumbledore alive? Severus dead? He suddenly wished that Dursley would take his leave and let him be alone with his thoughts and memories. Dudley seemed to pick up on this, and after a few more minutes of small talk, excused himself and left.

_LeFavre Mansion,_

_Paris, France_

Adriana had been welcomed home by Claude and whisked away to the mansion to the rest of her family. As soon as her mother saw the engagement ring on her finger, she began asking Adriana all about Draco. She did not let on that the entire family had been working behind the scenes to make sure that Draco was the right person for her to marry; Adriana would have taken great offense at that kind of meddling. Adriana was no fool though; she had guessed that Claude would have told her mother and grandfather about Draco, and the fact that he, Claude, had lifted the magic aversion spell. She silently accepted the fact that her family probably knew more about Draco than she did. The fact that they were so enthusiastic spoke volumes to Adriana. She felt more a part of the family at this point than she ever had before. She did not really care about the loss of her privacy, in fact, she expected it.

Her mother was in full 'wedding planner' mode, insisting that the wedding be held in the LeFavre Mansion, studying an astrological chart to ascertain the most auspicious day for the ceremony. If Adriana allowed it, the wedding plans would take care of themselves, with her being nothing more than a human Barbie doll to be dressed up and posed. She had other plans however. She did not mind the wedding being held in France, however she had friends in Montreal who should be invited. The wizards and witches who relied on her expertise to help grow their fortunes would, no doubt, be offended if they were not invited. She and Draco could not afford to alienate any of them, they were her income source.

Pierre LeFavre had bigger goals set for his prospective grandson-in-law than just being a successful businessman. He wanted to use Draco in order to expand the family's diplomatic reach. He realized however, this would take quite a bit of behind the scenes maneuvering in the seats of government in several countries. From what he had learned about Draco, he believed that it would be well worth the time and effort. He was already reaching out to counterparts in different French speaking countries, knowing that he would get complete cooperation. After all, the people he was dealing with were all family.

_A/N: I know these chapters are kind of short, but I am covering a lot of time between chapters. I have 2 more chapters already written, I just have to convert them from HTML before I can post them._


	8. Meeting the Family

**Chapter 8**

**Meet The Family**

_Air Canada 757_

_30,000 feet over the Atlantic_

_6 months later_

Draco and Adriana sat in the first-class section of the plane with several witches and wizards, many of whom had never been on a muggle airplane. It was only the second time for Draco, the first being when he and Narcissa had flown from Sophia to New York the day they began their exile from the wizarding world. The difference between the two flights was stunning. Although Draco was flying first class instead of cattle car this time, it did not lessen his apprehension. After all, if the plane went down, the only difference between the two classes would be the fact that he would hit the water sooner than those folks sitting in back.

"_What I would give for a portkey, or even a broom_", he thought_. "Muggles talk about how safe commercial airlines are, but getting into a hollow metal tube with wings strapped on, under the control of someone you don't know, letting them take you up almost 6 miles in the air at 600 miles per hour…. That is just plain WEIRD!_ He looked out the window again, calculating how long it would take to hit the water.

"Are you still worrying about the plane?" Adriana asked. At Draco's nod, she chided him. "Don't worry, Darling, you are not going anywhere until its your time."

"Right," Draco drawled. "What if it's the pilot's time though? I can just see myself standing in front of the Maker, and He asks, 'What the heck are you doing here?' And me pointing at the pilot and saying, 'Beats me…. I'm with HIM_! I had a ticket to Paris_!'"

At this, not only Adriana, but also several eavesdropping passengers and the flight attendant cracked up.

One of the guests informed the flight attendant that Draco and Adriana were flying over to France for their wedding, and that most of the first class passengers were invited guests. This, along with the fact that all of these passengers were paying outrageous prices to fly first class, convinced the flight crew to open the liquor stores and serve multiple bottles of champagne for the couple and their guests. By the time that the plane landed at Charles de Gaulle airport, everyone was in high spirits and more than just a bit intoxicated.

Draco was amazed at the courtesy shown to the party when they landed. They went through customs with little more than a quick look at their passports, then they handed their baggage claim checks to an airport employee who assured him that his luggage would be delivered to the curb. The wheels had been well greased for their arrival. They were then met by a driver who led the party out to the curb where several limousines were parked, awaiting their arrival. The luggage was loaded into a van, the wedding party into the limousines, and the trip to LeFavre Manor began, winding its way through the insane Paris traffic with stately grace.

Draco was studying Adriana during the drive. " _Beauty, grace and power_…", he thought. "_Draco, you lucky dog, whatever you did right to deserve this woman, keep on doing it"._ He was so engrossed that he almost missed the entrance to LeFavre Manor. As they drove down a boulevard lined with stately homes, the driver reached up and pressed a button on what looked like a control for an electric garage door opener. All at once, another estate _appeared_ between two others. It happened so quickly that had he blinked, he would have missed it.

"_Thank the Maker that the magic aversion spell wore off,"_ Draco thought. At least that is what he assumed happened. He had not mentioned the missing aversion spell to Adriana, and she had not volunteered any information. Draco assumed that it had died with its caster. Either way, it was a relief to be able to converse about the wizarding world without throwing up. He was definitely glad that he would not be throwing up all over Adriana's family. At least not for that reason. The butterflies in his stomach were caused by a more mundane concern. This was the day that he would finally meet Pierre LeFavre, the patriarch of the LeFavre family.

Over the previous 6 months since his visit from Dudley Dursley, Draco had thrown himself into his work and his relationship with Adriana wit a vengeance. During this period, he had met several members of Adriana's family. Whenever a LeFavre was in Montreal performing diplomatic duties, they always stopped by to see Adriana. Draco knew that these visits were meant to test his suitability for entrance in the LeFavre family as the husband of Adriana. Draco was touched by the concern that the family showed for their squib relative. In the UK, squibs were barely tolerated in normal wizarding society, and among the Purebloods, they were despised as abnormal freaks. It was not unheard of to abandon non-magical babies at orphanages while telling fellow wizards that the child had gone to live with distant relatives. Very distant relatives.

When they arrived at the head of the circular driveway, Adriana's mother quickly whisked her away as a butler informed Draco that M. Pierre LeFavre would like to speak with him at his earliest convenience. Draco nodded and suggested that they take care of that immediately. The butler gave a small smile, as if to confirm that all he had heard about Draco was true, (household servants know all of the secrets) and escorted Draco to the patriarch's office. When they arrived, the butler, Paulo, announced him. Draco strode in and gave a deep bow, as befitted a wizard of Pierre's rank and standing. He also spoke to Pierre in French.

"Monsieur LeFavre," he started bravely, "I know that we have not formally met prior to today, but I would ask your permission as Patriarch of the family for your granddaughter's hand in marriage."

Pierre smiled inwardly. This Malfoy boy was everything that the others had told him. Gracious, knowledgeable regarding the forms of Pureblood diplomacy, and courageous; standing his ground with a steady voice in a very stressful situation. He stood, walked around his desk, and grasped Draco's hand, then gave him a Gaelic kiss on each cheek.

"Welcome to my home, Monsieur Malfoy. I freely grant my permission for you to marry Adriana. This is a time of great joy for the LeFavre family. I know quite a bit about you and your family, and it pleases me to welcome you as part of our family. Come now, let us sit and talk."

An hour later, Draco left the old man's office in a daze_. "That was more like a bloody job interview that a meet and greet,"_ he thought. _"I have never had anyone extract so much information from me without resorting to Legilimency_. Little did Draco know that was exactly what happened. The old man had probed him as they spoke in order to make sure that Draco was being up front with him. As a career diplomat, Pierre never took anything at face value.

Just then, a female house elf popped into view and came over to Draco, bowing and scraping all the while. "Monsieur Malfoy, Madam LeFavre instructed me to bring you to the Great Dining Room. There is a buffet lunch laid out in honor of you and Mademoiselle LeFavre."

Smiling at the little elf with the nervous attitude that he had come to recognize as universal to the species, Draco said; "Well, in that case we would not want to be late. Lead on McDuff."

"Thank you, sir. But it is not McDuff, I be named Chat." The little elf was bobbing her head so fast that Draco had to laugh. He took Chat's hand and let her lead him to lunch.

_A/N: Draco's airplane monologue/dialogue was lovingly lifted from an album by comedian Mike Warnke. Every time I get on an airplane I have those same thoughts. Mike was truly a comedic genius. _


	9. New Beginnings

**Chapter 9**

**New Beginnings**

_Exclusive to The Daily Prophet_

_Jean Bertrain, Paris Bureau Staff Writer_

**Draco Malfoy Weds!**

_Alleged Death Eater Draco Malfoy, suspected in the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore and assisting in the attack on Hogwarts School, was married to Mlle Adriana LeFavre in Paris this last Saturday. Mr. Malfoy has kept a low profile since the attack on that was, at one time, believed to have taken the life of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. (see related story on page A-6) _

_According to sources inside the Ministry of Magic's Law Enforcement Division, Draco Malfoy was stripped of his magical powers when he went into exile overseas. His new bride, Adriana LeFavre, is the squib granddaughter of Pierre LeFavre, a respected diplomat from France. Draco Malfoy is the son of the convicted and executed Death Eater Lucius Malfoy. The Malfoy fortune and estates were confiscated by the Ministry of Magic following the execution of the elder Malfoy and placed in a Victims Restitution Fund. Sources report however, that the younger Malfoy has gained monetary success in the Muggle world as a businessman. His bride is also fairly wealthy, not only being a member of the LeFavre family, but also a successful businesswoman in her own right._

_In an unusual twist, the groom gave up his last name and took the surname of his bride, LeFavre. In a rare exclusive interview with this reporter, the new Mr. LeFavre stated his reason for this action was that the Malfoy name had been brought into disrepute by the actions of his late father, and that by rejecting the Malfoy name, he was also giving up any claim to monies confiscated by the Ministry. He also formally changed his given name to "Drake". _

"_All I want is a fresh start in life," Mr. LeFavre explained. "I may still use my given name in my business life so I don't confuse my clients, I feel that the Malfoy name should be allowed to die out on the ash-heap of history. I was never close to my father, and I do not want to have to explain to my children about his heinous actions."_

_When asked about his own actions, Malfoy-LeFavre pointed out that he had killed no one, that Dumbledore had died of natural circumstances, that an innocent man had been convicted and executed for Dumbledore's murder, and that there was no evidence that he had ever worked for Tom Riddle. In any case, any charges that could possibly be lodged against him had expired due to the Statute of Limitations on the crimes. He also restated that he had never been convicted of any crime. _

"_No matter what my magical status, I am still a member of a Pureblood wizarding family with all of the rights and responsibilities. My wife, although not magical, is also a member of a Pureblood wizarding family. We belong together, and by Merlin, we will hold our heads up high, whether we are in Wizarding or Muggle society."_

_When contacted by this reporter, Harry Potter, Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Division, declined any comment_.

_LeFavre Manor_

_Paris, France_

Draco and Adriana had no sooner arrived back from their honeymoon in the Swiss Alps, than he was summoned into the office of Pierre LeFavre. Upon his arrival at the office, he was surprised to see not only Pierre, but also several LeFavre family members, all diplomats, from various French speaking countries around the globe. Getting up from behind his desk, the old man walked up to Draco and gave him a welcoming hug and Gaelic kiss.

"Drake, welcome home. I hope your honeymoon was all that you expected?"

"_Grandpere_, it was wonderful. But of course I had the most wonderful company." Draco thought fondly about the two weeks of bliss that he had spent with Adriana and couldn't suppress a wide smile.

"_Bon_. You may wonder why I asked you to return here rather than return to Canada right away." At Draco's nod, he continued. "It is about your future. Do you really want to go through life as a Muggle stockbroker? Not that it is not a honorable profession, but I believe that you have the talent and ability to be much more."

"Honestly, although I enjoy the work, there will always be a part of me that will be empty inside. I was a pureblood wizard, raised in a wizarding family. I would have never even ventured into the Muggle world if things had been different. Of course, I would have never met the most wonderful woman in the world that way, so I can live with it. I am sure that someday I will move up to something different, however I don't know what that would be at this point."

"I would like to give you a gift, and a proposal. The gift is this," The old man took out his wand and pointed it at Draco. Draco spun around and saw that the other wizards were also pointing their wands at him.

"**_Solvo Vox!"_** Blue light shot from the wands, enveloping Draco. All at once he felt energy flow through him. He had not felt this alive in years. He knew instinctively that his powers had been returned to him! Tears of gratitude flowed from his eyes, but he quickly dried them. He walked over to Pierre's desk, bent down on one knee and bowed his head.

"_Grandpere_, how can I ever thank you?" At this point, Draco would have done anything for the old man.

"Two things. One, love and care for my granddaughter. The other is to consider an offer. I do not expect an answer immediately, but I would like serious consideration. The powers will be with you whether or not you accept my proposal." Upon seeing Draco nod in agreement, he continued. "Drake, you are a talented young man with both a magical and Muggle education. You are very smooth, persuasive, and convincing. I also believe that your values are acceptable. What I am offering you is a career in the family profession, that of a diplomat. Or in this case, a diplomat in training. Through the Family's connections, you have been granted Canadian citizenship. You would be a representative of that government, although like all of our diplomats in French speaking countries, your first loyalty will be to the family. We find that if we do it this way, all of the countries that we represent get along and have no conflicts. We actually form a bloc when we negotiate with other countries. It is an old and honorable profession, of which, we are masters. You would carry the i passeport diplomatique /i and be able to travel anywhere in the world unmolested. While you are in training, you will continue with your regular position in the stockbroker office, but you can begin to move your clients and responsibilities over to Adriana. She, of course, will continue her profession."

"_Grandpere_, this is a lot to think about. May I have a couple of days to think about it and talk with Adriana?"

"Take as long as you need. I would expect you to consult with your wife. She can tell you much more about the diplomatic life and help you arrive at your decision. Meanwhile, I have something for you." Pierre reached in his desk and pulled out a polished box. "I took the liberty of contacting Ollivander's and getting the specifications on your original wand. I then had my family wandmaker recreate one for you to those specifications."

He held out the box to Draco. When Draco opened it, he would have sworn that it was his original wand. He gave it a wave and a shower of sparks came from the end. He looked in the box again and saw a lightweight wrist style wand holster. Draco quickly shrugged off his jacket and attached the holster to his arm. For the first time in seven years, he felt complete. He put his jacket back on and once again bowed to Pierre.

"Go now, Grandson. Go to your wife and enjoy your life. Call me when you make your decision." With that, he hugged Draco again and dismissed him.

After Draco left, Claude spoke up. "Do you think that he will join us?"

"Of that, I have no doubt. It may take a few weeks, but he will become an integral part of the family business. I want you to take him under your wing and train him."

"As you say." With that, the LeFavre wizards left the office and joined their families for lunch.

_A/N: This is the last of the chapters that I already had prepared and just had to convert from HTML. It may be a while before I update this, but the next chapter will have Draco getting adjusted to his new position in wizarding society…_


	10. Draco the Diplomat

**Chapter 10**

**Drake the Diplomat**

_American Hemisphere Wizarding Summit_

_Fredriksted,_ _St. Croix, Virgin Islands_

The summit was in its third day and some tempers were beginning to fray. The Southern States Confederation, never a real power player, was begging the gathered representatives for assistance in relocating the large wizarding population of New Orleans, devastated by Hurricane Katrina. They were also asking for funds from member countries for rebuilding funds to help rebuild for those magical folk wanting to stay. The French speaking delegates (read the LeFavre family bloc) were all in favor of helping their fellow French speaking wizards, however they believed that the burden should be spread equally among all delegates with ability to pay being the major factor in deciding the amount levied onto member states. Unfortunately, this brought them into direct conflict with some of the power players in the hemisphere, namely the Northeastern Alliance and its ideological ally, the Gold Belt States, comprised of the western states of California, Oregon, Washington, as well as the Canadian provinces of Yukon, British Columbia, and the American state of Alaska, with its gold laden Inuit shamans. Obviously, wizarding boundaries did not necessarily follow muggle national borders.

"The muggle United States government is throwing money at everyone who ever lived in New Orleans, let them pick up the tab. They will also help rebuild the city, although anyone who is stupid enough to build a city on a coast that is a target for hurricanes, a city that sits below sea level, is probably too stupid to fill out the paperwork. We can see some aid, but the successful wizarding governments should not be unfairly punished for their success by having to pick up the majority of the costs." This diatribe came from Sidney Bellflower, Ambassador from the Northeastern Alliance. Bellflower was old-blood, tracing his lineage from not only the Mayflower, but also was able to claim heritage from one of the few true witches hanged in the Salem witch trials. His family had never forgiven the muggles for that and wore that martyrdom as a badge of family honor.

"I totally agree with my colleague from the Northeast Alliance." The Ambassador from the Gold Belt, a stately witch from Los Angeles, spoke up. Many people outside the wizarding population would recognize her since she was once a popular Hollywood child actress who parlayed her popularity into a diplomatic post. "It is well known that our region has always helped worthy liberal causes, however we cannot agree to shoulder so much of the load."

"You cannot expect poverty ridden countries such as the Dominion of Haiti to give as much as the rich regions in the north, it is ridiculous!" Finally a LeFavre delegate jumped in. "Should some of our spiritual brethren in New Orleans want to bring their resettlement funds to the Island, we would welcome them with open arms, but we cannot assist in donating monies, worthy as the cause may be."

"The Aztec-Incan Region is willing to send some gold, but we cannot allow any immigration to our region. We learned a valuable lesson from the Spanish invaders 500 years ago, that being to have a strict immigration policy."

Drake LeFavre, nee Draco Malfoy, had been sitting quietly with his mentor and in-law, Claude LeFavre of the Quebec delegation. He had been running some numbers on a muggle calculator that had been charmed against magical interference. When he punched in the final number, he got an unbelieving expression on his face. Turning to Claude, he tapped him on the sleeve. "Excuse me a moment, I need to verify something." At Claude's nod, he got up and made his way to the Southern States ambassador.

"Pardon me, _Monsieur,_ my name is Drake LeFavre with the Quebec delegation. Could I ask you a few questions about your refugees?"

"Certainly Mr. LeFavre, this situation needs to be resolved, and if you can help I would greatly appreciate it."

Draco sat down next to him and began to make notes on a muggle legal pad. After about 20 minutes. He made a suggestion to the Southern States ambassador, a dignified wizard named Beauregard Wilson. At the ambassador's nod, he hurried back to Claude, quickly whispered something to him while showing him the notes that he had made along with his conclusions. Claude's eyebrows lifted, then he nodded. Claude then lifted his wand and lit it, showing that he needed to speak.

"The Chair recognizes the delegate from Quebec with hopes that he has something of value to add to this debate." There was a titter of amusement throughout the hall.

"_Merci, Monsieur Président. _I would ask for this issue to be tabled until tomorrow morning so that tempers can have a chance to cool and we can follow up on some data that we have recently come across."

"The Southern States delegation has no objections to the gentleman from Quebec's request," Wilson seconded. The Chairman blinked in surprise. The Southern States had been insistent that the issue be settled. To agree to a tabling of the debate showed that there could be something important in the works, a fact picked up by the other delegates. Settling an important issue such as this could make all of them look good in the press.

"We have a motion on the floor and a second. All in favor of tabling this issue until tomorrow morning, say 'aye'. All opposed? Motion carries without dissent. Due to the late hour, I would entertain a motion to adjourn until 10 am tomorrow."

"So moved _Señor Chairman_," The delegate from the Hispanic Republic interjected.

"The Gold Belt seconds the motion, Mr. Chairman."

"All in favor?, Opposed? This session is adjourned until tomorrow morning. Thank you, Witches and Wizards."

As the delegates began to get up to leave, Claude leaned over to Draco. "Drake, you will need to get those figures firmed up and then work the different delegates at the reception tonight. With the importance of this particular reception and the number of press representatives, I believe that we can contact everyone that we need to work this out. Let us go to our embassy and prepare for tonight."

_Mystique Centre _

_St. Croix _

Mystique Centre, the base of operations for the magical government in St. Croix, was the location for the Wizarding Summit. Normally a very small building, it had been magically enhanced and enlarged for this important meeting. Following the actual meeting, the local wizards vanished all of the desks and other equipment, then transformed the hall into an ornate reception hall. This was the first time that the Caribbean Federation had hosted the western hemisphere delegates since the disastrous Convention of 1924 held in Cuba.

At that convention, the wards had failed and a large group of muggles had wandered in during the entertainment period. Unfortunately, it was while the Cuban _Santeria_ priests had their zombies demonstrating local music and dances. They had run screaming outside, colliding into a visiting unit of U.S. Marines. The Marines, having already visited more than a few of the local drinking establishments, charged into the hall and the fight was on. By the time everything was sorted out, the Caribbean Federation had lost a lot of credibility, the Marines and the tourists were obliviated, and it took the combined efforts of several delegations to help restore the wards. Unknown to the wizards, one tourist had escaped obliviation and had attempted to tell his story to the muggle authorities. He was promptly put into an insane asylum where he entertained the nurses and doctors with his wild tale for the next 27 years. He died in the asylum, never regaining his freedom.

The Caribbean Federation was unique, with a government center on each island, but with a weak central government located on St. Croix. This allowed a lot of autonomy, but still kept the ability to join together on important issues such as a single wizarding currency and inter-island assistance. The only island not belonging to the Federation was the Dominion of Haiti, opting for complete independence.

The Federation government was determined that nothing would happen at this summit to sully their reputation, so they hired the best ward makers from Gringotts to ensure the privacy of their guests. It was in this atmosphere that the assembled delegates gathered that evening to relax and make side deals with their counterparts, many that would never be brought up on the summit floor, but would greatly benefit both the respective countries and the careers of the diplomats who negotiated them.

Draco and Claude worked the assembled delegates, reaching agreement with them on the amount of assistance that each would give the refugees affected by Hurricane Katrina. The breakthrough came when Draco had figured out that there were less than 1000 witches and wizards in the area that would need some sort of assistance. The reason that the different delegates had put up so much resistance during the meeting was that they had looked at the amount of destruction in the city without taking into account that the wizarding population was so much smaller than the mundanes. By chatting with the different delegates, they got agreements on just what type of assistance that the different regions would be willing to give and how many refugees could be relocated if necessary. By the time the reception was over, Drake had the makings of a comprehensive agreement. With Claude's approval, he made his good-nights and returned to the Quebec embassy.

Using a Dicto-Quill and formal parchment, Draco penned the agreement, then used a copying spell to make enough copies for all the delegates with the original to be used for the formal signing. After about two hours, Claude came in, reviewed the document, and helped Draco finish the work. When the document was finished, Claude summoned a house-elf to deliver a copy to each of the delegates embassy.

_Delegates Hall_

_The next morning_

The assembled delegates passed the New Orleans Relief Resolution the following morning by acclaim. Draco and Claude had obtained specific promises from each of the delegates as to the amount and type of aid they could provide. Once the figures had been put together, they found that they could assist twice the number of refugees that actually needed help. The agreement specified that the refugees would have to first apply for aid from the muggle U.S. Government, then the magical aid would kick in, allowing the families to either rebuild or relocate and start a business. Had it not been for Draco putting the actual figures together, the delegates would probably have argued for days out of ignorance.

"_Now I know why Potter had so much distain for government," _Draco thought. _"The people in charge are so busy flapping their jaws that they can't actually get off their half moons and solve the problem. It seems like most of them would rather have the issue to beat to death than the solutions."_

There were several other small matters to address at the summit, however these had, for the most part, been agreed upon prior to the delegates ever leaving their home regions. Their presence at the summit was primarily for public relations purposes, allowing the diplomats favorable press coverage and a good photo op. Finally, with thanks and congratulations to the Caribbean Federation, and the announcement that the next summit had been awarded to Gold Belt region, the summit adjournedto the satisfaction of all concerned.

As Draco and Claude prepared to leave by portkey back to Quebec, Claude congratulated his protégé on his common sense in isolating the problem and coming up with such a simple, but elegant solution. "This talent is something that does not come along very often. If you continue in this manner, you have a bright future in the family business."

"I just noticed that no one had actually come up with a figure. It was like trying to put together a potion with no idea what the ingredients should be. All I did was figure out the missing ingredients."

"Such modesty. If you work this well behind the scenes, what will you be able to do if you take over for me?" The two diplomats took their copy of the agenda, which had been made into a portkey, activated it and disappeared.

_LeFavre Manor_

_Paris, France_

Pierre LeFavre was sitting in his comfortable leather chair enjoying a cognac when the fireplace with his secure floo connection flared green and Claude's face appeared. The old man leaned forward eagerly.

"Claude, how was your trip? And how did our little dragon work out?"

"_Granpere, _it went far better than I expected. You have heard of the New Orleans Relief Resolution?" At the old man's nod, Claude continued. "It was Drake's doing. He figured out the actual figures, brought them to me, then helped get agreement out of session. As an added bonus, he drafted the agreement and sent them to all the delegates. It was passed by acclamation."

"Hmm…. I believe that it is time to use our newest diplomat to break the logjam that we are experiencing with the British Ministry. There is an inter-governmental law enforcement agreement that they are being very stubborn on. I wish to use Draco to attempt to force the issue. Claude, I wish for you to send Draco here tomorrow. I am going to put him in the delegation going to London next week."

"_Merde!_ Having him show up in London will drive the Brits over the edge. There is no telling what they will do."

"That is the idea. I am going personally to oversee the meltdown." The old man grinned. He despised everything British, from the food to the weather. He especially despised the British Ministry of Magic and the way they treated their citizens. This was going to be fun.

_A/N: Next, Draco goes home and Harry Potter steps in it….._


	11. Diplomatic Showdown

**Chapter 11**

**Diplomatic Showdown**

_Ministry of Magic_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Harry Potter was in a very good mood today. Things had been very quiet lately, with only the occasional minor crime recorded. There had not been a murder recorded in the realm for over a year, and that one was a case of a drunken domestic quarrel. It was time for Harry to gather his family and go on vacation. He was just about ready to leave the office when his Deputy Administrator, Ron Weasley, knocked and stuck his head in.

"Hey, mate. You about ready to grab Ginny and the kids for your holiday?"

"Oh, yes. I can hardly wait to hit the beaches. Do you realize that this is the first holiday that I have had in three years? Ginny finally put her foot down and told me that if I didn't take one, that she was going to go without me. She also said that she would put the fidelus charm on the house so that I would have to either sleep here or at the Leaky Cauldron."

"I tried to warn you about her temper back in 6th year, but would you listen.. oh, no. Not the Great Harry Potter. Had to be a hero. Now you're just whipped." The two men broke out in laughter. Harry reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey and two paper cups.

"It is officially after hours. Like to join me in a bon voyage drink?"

"I don't know. If Hermione gets a sniff…."

"And you're calling me whipped? Tell me Ron, did 'Mione put your stones in that locket that she started wearing after your honeymoon?" By this time, Harry had poured the firewhiskey and Ron had taken a mouthful. He promptly spit it out, partially through his nose, looking somewhat like a red haired dragon.

"Damn it, Harry, you got me again!" Ron took another mouthful of the drink, this time swallowing it and getting the normal reaction coming out of his mouth and ears.

Harry finished his drink, put the bottle away and tossed his cup in the trash. "You going to be alright holding down the fort for the next couple of weeks?"

"As quiet as it has been? I may be a victim of rampant boredom. If you come back and find me dead over my desk with cobwebs on me, it will just be from underuse of my talents. Now you need to clear out of here before Ginny makes good on her threat."

Tossing his cup into the trash, Ron joined Harry in leaving the office. With a last look back, Harry threw a locking charm on the office and headed toward the floo to begin what he hoped would be a quiet holiday.

_LeFavre Manor_

_Paris, France_

Drake LeFavre, nee Draco Malfoy, had just spent the past 6 hours being briefed by his grandfather-in-law, Pierre LeFavre in preparation of attending a summit meeting in Britain. Drake was to be taking Claude's place today as the representative from Quebec. Pierre, however, had a secondary plan involving Draco, one which even Draco was unaware.

"Now, Drake, since the meeting itself is not until tomorrow, you should leave today, visit some of the people and places you have not seen for so long. Reacquaint yourself with yourself with your homeland since we may have you filling a diplomatic post here in the next few years."

"But _Granpere,_ I was warned by Potter to stay away. Can that be a problem?"

"_Non._ Drake, you must remember that you now have diplomatic immunity. You are no longer British, under the control of their Ministry, rather you are a citizen of Quebec, and a diplomat. You will be as safe as a babe in his mother's arms."

Draco thought that was a nice way of putting it, so he gave the old man a Gaelic kiss, took the portkey from him, and disappeared on his way to his hotel. Pierre watched him go, then rubbed his chin.

"Now, we will see if the Brits will be as monumentally stupid as I believe." Taking a two way mirror, he called Jean Luc, the French ambassador in Britain.

"_Oui, Granpere, _how may I serve you?" Jean Luc, a fiftyish wizard who was prematurely silver-haired asked.

"Draco should be arriving at his hotel any moment. Please have a staffer shadow him and let me know immediately should ha have any problem whatsoever. Tell your person that they cannot be seen."

"_Oui, Granpere._ I have just the person." With that, Pierre waved his hand over the mirror, breaking the connection.

_International Wizarding Civil Liberties Union_

_London_

Hermione Weasley, who happened to use her maiden name of Granger at work, gathered her papers up, put them in a desk drawer and got ready to leave work early. She locked her office and stopped by her secretary's desk.

"Miranda, I will be leaving a few hours early tonight. My husband and I are going over to his parent's house for a family get-together. Will you be alright finishing up here and locking up?"

"Sure will, Ms. Granger. Anything else I can do for you?" Miranda Kalewles was a new hire who almost worshipped Hermione. Miranda was a graduate of Salem Witch Academy in Massachusetts who left the wizarding world to attend college at California State University in Berkley. This educational experience had strengthened her natural liberal tendencies to the point where she became an activist for just about every left wing cause that Berkley had to offer. When she decided to rejoin the magical world, she was naturally drawn to the IWCLU who's director had made such great strides forward in causes like elf equality and werewolf rights. She had just landed the position a week prior and had spent most of that time moving to London, only starting her job the previous day.

"Alright, keep the office open until about five, then put your cell number up on the door as an emergency contact. If there is a problem, just use my mirror to contact me."

"Will do. See you Monday morning." With that, Hermione gave a small wave and apparated out, not realizing that her communication mirror had fallen out of her purse and was now sitting under her desk.

The stage was now set for disaster.

_Diagon Alley_

Marvin Moxley, a rookie auror, and his training officer, Jason Anders, were making their last patrol prior to going off duty. Marvin had just graduated the Auror academy a scant two weeks earlier and this was only his fifth patrol. He was starting to wonder why he had been so hot to join the force upon his graduation from Hogwarts. This had become the dullest job in wizarding Britain. The most action he had seen was the arrest of a shoplifter at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes a couple of days before, and that desperado was begging the Aurors to take him away after the proprietors, Fred and George Weasley had finished pranking him for daring to steal their merchandise. When they had collected the thief, he was purple with green polka dots, had a parrot beak and yellow feathers. His tongue was also almost three feet long. This was in addition to having goat's feet and a pig's tail. The tail was very noticeable sticking out of the two piece, hot pink bikini swim suit the thief's robes had been transfigured into. Fred Weasley promised to change him back…….after the trial.

Jason, on the other hand, was perfectly content with the lack of action. He had graduated the academy roughly two months prior to the Final Battle, when Auror life expectancy was measured in days, not years. He had been fortunate to not get cut down by some stray curse, and he fully planned on putting in his thirty and nabbing his pension. He had twin girls who would be starting Hogwarts in five years, and was putting money away for their educations.

"It seems that since the defeat of You-Know-Who that the real criminal element has just left wizarding Britain. I'll bet that the American Aurors don't have this amount of boredom."

"There is a good reason for that, and by the way, don't call him 'You-Know-Who', one of the lessons that we learned from that war is that fear of the name only increases fear of the person. In the end, Voldemort died on his knees, waiting for a sword execution just like the worst muggle. All of his henchmen died like muggles. As far as the Americans, they still have a wild west mentality. In the muggle world, American police always wore guns and were not afraid to use them. In Britain, it was not until the end of the century that muggle police carried guns. Before then, a nightstick was all the weapon that they needed. Criminals just did not try to kill police. This was not a bad thing. Muggle cops are just like us in a way, they want to be able to go home after their shift, and not end up in the hospital or on a slab."

"Ok, I'll give you that, but remember, V-Vo-Voldemort's people did not all die. At the Academy there is a big photo board with the pictures of all the Death Eaters on it. Most of the pictures have the words 'captured' or 'executed' written across them.. They got all of the big guys, except for one. Draco Malfoy was never captured."

"According to the _Prophet_, he got squibbed and escaped to the Americas. I think that I read that he married another squib." Anders laughed. "Don't worry, Junior. If the big, bad squib Malfoy comes back to become the next Dark Lord, you can have first crack at him."

"Laugh all you want, I would like to be the guy that finishes putting the last 'captured' stamp on that poster at the Academy. It would beat the hell out of hauling in shoplifters that the merchants have already punished."

Fate, being the fickle bitch that she was, chose that moment for the two Aurors to reach the steps of Gringotts at the end of their Diagon Alley patrol just as the object of their conversation was exiting the bank. Since Draco supposedly had nothing to fear in Britain, he not only had no disguise, but was not even wearing a hooded robe. Shock and recognition passed over the faces of the two Aurors even as they grabbed their wands. Draco never had a chance.

"_STUPIFY!"_ Two beams of light shot out and Draco went down like a sack of potatoes. Anders walked over and nudged him with his toe.

"He'll be out for a while. Good aim there, Junior. I can't believe that you wished him here and he appeared. Just do me a favor and don't wish for Voldemort to come back. I don't think my ticker could stand the stress. Well, you got your wish, lets go put this mope in a holding cell and YOU can do the paperwork." Moxley, after removing Draco's wand, send ropes out of his own wand, binding Draco. The two Aurors then grabbed him, touched their badges, and disappeared.

A couple of yards away, hiding in plain sight was Jaques Micheaut, a distant cousin of the LeFavres. Jaques was the staffer assigned to shadow Draco during his visit. He quickly took out a two way mirror and called Lean Luc.

"_Monsieur, _the British Aurors just attacked _Monsieur Drake_ and took him away in ropes. I believe that they took him to their headquarters."

"_Bon._ Come back to the embassy, I will take it from here."

_The Daily Prophet_

_30 minutes later_

Rita Skeeter was bored, very bored. Since the war, when she had fallen out of favor due to the meddling of the Hogwarts brats, she had been demoted to the society pages, and it had taken these 7 years to work her way back up just to man the overnight desk. At this rate, it would take another decade to get back to being a beat reporter. Harry Potter had blown the whistle on her being an unregistered animagus soon after the war. All she had done was question just how big a part the brat had in bringing down the Dark Lord. She had spent 2 months in a Ministry cell and paid a 1000 galleon fine. Needless to say, Potter was not her favorite person.

It was just then that the fireplace glowed green and the head of Claude LeFavre appeared. Rita was startled, she knew the handsome Quebec diplomat from his pictures, but she had never met him personally. She recovered quickly and grabbed her Quik-Quote quill. If such an important man was calling, there must be a good story involved.

"Mr. Ambassador, how can I help you?"

"_Mademoiselle_, I have distressing news. A short time ago, a unit of your Aurors attacked and kidnapped one of our diplomats, _Monsieur_ Drake LeFavre. He was here for the Law Enforcement summit and was minding his own business, having just finished some banking at Gringotts. We have not been able to reach anyone in charge to rescue him."

"Oh, my. I will contact some of my sources and get back to you. I will also use the full power of the press to try to get your diplomat back. He did have immunity, did he not?"

"_Oui._ I appreciate all that you can do. I seem to be running into a brick wall. No one wants to admit anything, and those in charge seem to have disappeared." With that, Claude broke the connection.

Had Rita still have been in the Society pages, she would have realized that Drake LeFavre was no less than Draco Malfoy. When she made the break out of that section, she had steadfastly refused to even open those pages, peeling them out of her copies and banishing them to the trash. It was no surprise then when she called Auror headquarters to ask about the diplomat that the desk sergeant had no idea who she was talking about.

"Let's see, how do you spell that? L-e-F-a-v-r-e…. Nope. No one in here by that name. Now Ms. Skeeter, I have a dangerous criminal in the holding cells that I have to tend to. Someone we have been after for a long time."

"Ooh, sounds interesting. Can you give me a hint who it is?"

"I'm sorry, you will just have to wait for the official announcement from Mr. Weasley. He and Chief Potter would have my head if it leaked out."

"Oh, well. I guess I'll read about it in Monday night's edition. Ta-ta"

Rita knew that they had to be hiding _something_ about the arrest of the diplomat. Sighing, she called up the IWCLU for their take on the story. She hated talking to that Granger woman, but a story is a story. She was pleasantly surprised when she reached, not Hermione Granger, but her new assistant. She quickly gave her the run down. Miranda asked her to wait a moment while she contacted her boss. After a few minutes, she came back on.

"I can't seem to reach Ms. Granger, but this is too good to pass up. My take on it is this…….."

_**Diplomat Attacked and Kidnapped!**_

_**DMLE Aurors Implicated!**_

_Exclusive to the Daily Prophet_

_By Rita Skeeter_

**Last evening, the Quebec Embassy reported that one of their diplomats, Mr. Drake LeFavre, was viciously attacked and kidnapped by Aurors from the DMLE. According to sources, Mr. LeFavre was leaving a business in Diagon Alley when, in violation of all international agreements, he was stupefied and whisked away. Mr. LeFavre was in Britain for the Law Enforcement summit. Sources at the DMLE, obviously embarrassed about being caught in this outrageous behavior, denied any knowledge about this crime. **

**A spokesperson for the International Wizarding Civil Liberties Union gave this statement; "Once again, we see the heavy handed, jackbooted stormtroopers of 'law enforcement' overstepping their bounds, viciously attacking not only their own citizens, but foreign diplomats in violation of international law. It is high time that the fascist police be brought to heel and put back under the control of the citizens and not be some sort of death squad. We here at the IWCLU are hoping that the hostage diplomat is released quickly and unharmed, but we must face reality. The poor man has, after all, been in custody for a while. It might be that he will end up in some unmarked grave in order to allow the government to deny that they were responsible for this fiasco."**

**Harry Potter, Chief of the DMLE, was not available for comment.**

**We here at the _Daily Prophet_ call on the Ministry to fess up and release Mr. LeFavre with the apologies due.**

Rita Skeeter looked at her copy, proofreading it. Finishing up, she sent it to the print room with instructions to front page it. She thought back to her conversation with the delightful Miranda Kalewles and briefly wondered what jackboots and fascists were. Never mind, it spelled trouble for that creep Potter and his sycophant Weasley, and that was good enough for her.

_A/N: My thanks to ExcessivlyPerky for coming up with the idea of a wizarding version of Amnesty International. It has now been enshrined as the IWCLU :) _


	12. Repercussions

**Chapter 12**

**Repercussions**

_The Burrow_

_The next morning_

It had been a great dinner and the guests had all decided to stay over rather than go home to their separate dwellings. Although Harry, Ginny, and their kids had not been there, having left earlier on their holiday, the rest of the crew, with their children, had filled up the old house very well, thank you. Ron and Hermione, with their daughter Amanda, a quiet girl of 4 years, bushy red hair and sapphire eyes, had taken Ron's old room, while George and Alicia had slept in Ginny's former room. George and Alicia were the only married Weasleys who, as yet, had no children, although they were expecting one in the next month, and Alicia was going through that period of absolute misery known to every expectant mother. Fred and his wife, the former Susan Bones, were sleeping in Fred and George's old room while their hyperactive triplets, Huey, Dewey, and Louie (Fred had once seen a Disney movie at a muggle theatre and had fallen in love with the mischievous prankster ducks, it was a good thing that Susan had no clue of where the names had come from), were sleeping downstairs in the den in sleeping bags. Percy and Penelope had their 2 year old son, Albus with them in his old room while Charlie, the only bachelor took his old room for the night. Bill and Fleur with their 4 kids had not been able to make it, Fleur and 2 of the kids having come down with severe colds, something even the wizarding world had not come up with a cure for. Even with the absence of the oldest and youngest Weasleys and their families, the Burrow was bursting at the seams, both with people and love.

This morning Molly Weasley had risen early to start breakfast for the crew. Stepping carefully around the still sleeping triplets, with their tousled heads barely visible in their large sleeping bag, she made her way into the kitchen where she was greeted by Winky, Harry and Ginny's house elf. They had left her at the Burrow while they were on holiday to help out Molly while Winky's mate, Dobby remained at Potter Manor to keep an eye on things there. Winky would have preferred to go with Harry and Ginny, however the Potters were staying at a muggle resort and the little elf would have been hard to explain away. Winky greeted Molly with her usual enthusiasm.

"Would mistress Wheezy like a cup of tea? Winky has started breakfast."

Although it had been a hard sell for Molly to allow anyone in her kitchen, it was times like this that she appreciated the help of an elf. There had been times when all of her children were in the house that she would have really loved the extra help, and now that she had gotten out of the habit of cooking and cleaning up after such a large brood, she was not about to turn down a willing set of helping hands, especially from someone as eager as Winky.

"Yes, thank you very much, dear. I will go ahead and have some tea and read the morning paper for a bit, then come in and help you with breakfast."

Winky's eyes widened and she squeaked in a scandalized voice, "Mistress Wheezy should not need to do house elf work! Winky can fix breakfast by herself!" She was so upset that Molly drew her into a hug.

"Winky, dear, I did not mean to upset you, I just enjoy cooking as much as you do. If you prefer though, I will go ahead and let you make the breakfast. Let me know if you do need help on anything. Remember, I have been cooking for this crew for a long time." With that, she poured her tea and opened up the _Daily Prophet._

Molly had a regular routine when reading the paper. She would start at the society pages, working her way outward, doing the crossword puzzle and reading the latest serialized drama story. She set aside the sports pages for Arthur, and only then did she look at the front section stories. It was at this point that she was assaulted by three small red haired terrors who latched themselves onto her legs.

"Granmama!..."

"Good Morning!"

"We're hungry!"

Molly laughed. There was no mistaking that these three were their father's children. They had a triplet version of Fred and George's twin-speak, and were every bit as mischievous as the twins. Molly had their number however, theirs and Amanda's. As quiet and unassuming as Amanda was, Molly had figured out that she was, in many cases, the instigator behind many of their pranks, the triplets coming up with ideas and Amanda figuring out the details of how to carry them out, all while putting on a face so innocent that she would never get any of the blame. She also made sure that their pranks were not cruel and never got out of hand. Right now, their pranks were typical of small children, both magical and muggle, using no magic, but she shuddered to think of what it would be like when they reached Hogwarts and would have the ability to put magic into their mischief. They would probably break Fred and George's detention record, and Merlin help the staff and other houses.

"Okay scamps. It is probably better to feed everyone in shifts this morning. Go upstairs and wash up and see if Amanda and Albie are awake. We'll feed the kids first and let the grown ups lave a bit of a lie-in." With that, the three tore up the stairs to get ready for breakfast while Molly, her paper forgotten, went into the kitchen.

"Winky, how are things coming?"

"Winky is doing fine, Missus Wheezy. Winky is making bacon and chocolate pancakes for the children."

"Very good, Winky." Molly would never say anything to the elf, but inside she groaned. _'Just what we need, a sugar fix for hyperactive kids. The house may never be the same.'_

Folding up the paper, Molly set the table for the children. Soon a parade of children came down the stairs. Amanda was rubbing sleep from her eyes while little Albus, in the rear, eyed the triplets with suspicion. Albus, trying to be just like his father, was the perfect child. Even at two years old the child was perfectly mannered, not even going through the 'terrible twos'. As such, he was the natural target of the triplet's pranks. This did not mean that they left the other children alone, but Ginny and Harry's kids were more than willing to return prank for prank and Bill and Fleur's oldest kids were a force to be reckoned with, having their curse-breaker father's intelligence and their mother's wide-eyed innocent looks. The two younger children of Bill's were, for now, off limits because of their young ages, but that would soon change. Molly was not looking forward to that day. In a short seven years, Hogwarts would fall victim to the next Weasley-Potter invasion. She wondered if it would remain standing much longer after that.

An hour later, all the children had been fed and the adults were beginning to make their way downstairs. Hermione and Percy had left their spouses upstairs and were now sitting at the table getting their first cups of tea. Percy reached for the newspaper, scanned the front page and gave a small gasp.

"Oh my gosh. Hermione, have you seen this?" Percy handed Hermione the front page with Rita Skeeter's article. Hermione took the paper and began reading.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione almost spit out her tea with this _very_ out of character oath. Molly looked at her in shock, Hermione was not one to curse, even mildly. "Excuse me, I need to show this to Ron. I'm also going to _kill_ Miranda!"

Moments later, Hermione was leading a now, wide awake, Ron down the stairs. She was holding her purse, rummaging through it and muttering. "I was sure that I had my communication mirror with me when I left the office…."

By the time they had reached the bottom of the stairs, Percy had informed Molly of the contents of the article. Ron was pulling on his work robe and had his tie over his shoulder. "I'm going to have to go into the office to straighten this out. Not sure just when I will be back, but I'll give a firecall as soon as I get a chance." With that, Ron threw a pinch of Floo powder in the fireplace, called out, "Ministry of Magic", and disappeared.

Hermione turned to Molly. "Mum, can I get you to watch Amanda for me? I am going to have to go to the office so that I can call Miranda on her cell phone. Mine won't work from here. I have no idea _what_ she was thinking but she has set back relations with the Ministry a good ten years."

Molly gave her a quick hug. "No problem, dear. You go ahead and put out your fire, Mandy will be fine here." Hermione gave a half turn and apparated out.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

_Ministry of Magic_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Ron stepped out of the elevator and into chaos. On every available surface in the main office, there was an owl perched, many with the telltale red envelopes denoting howlers tied to their legs. The two aurors were hiding under desks in a vain attempt to avoid the persistent owls. When Ron walked in, the owls, sensing that Ron was the person in charge, began to crowd him.

"STOP! All of you with regular messages, go to the Owlery and take turns coming in, no more than 2 at a time and five minutes between sets. All of you with howlers, return to your writers. NOW!" The disgruntled owls began to leave, the howler owls leading the way. Turning to the aurors, Ron scowled. "Just what the bloody hell happened here while I was gone?"

"Honest, Mr. Weasley, we have no idea what they are talking about. They are saying that we have some diplomat locked up here, but the only person that was arrested last night was the last of Voldemort's Death Eaters." At Ron's puzzled look, Auror MacLaine added, "Draco Malfoy, sir. Patrol nailed him on the steps of Gringotts."

Just then, the fireplace flared green and the head of the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, appeared. From the look on his face, he was not a happy camper.

"Potter! Are you there?"

"Ron Weasley here, Minister. Chief Potter is off on his scheduled holiday. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Weasley, I want to know why in Merlin's name I my office is full of owls with howlers and there is a line of ambassadors from around the world threatening to break off diplomatic relations with us because _your_ aurors attacked and kidnapped some Quebec diplomat off the street!"

"Minister," Ron started. He was impressed that Scrimgeour had been able to scream that entire sentence without taking a breath. He now knew why the old man had been the terror of the DMLE when he had Harry's job. "I was just informed that there must have been some mistake in identity. Auror MacLaine has just reported to me that the only arrest last night was the Death Eater Draco Malfoy. I was just getting ready to head down to the holding cells to see if there was a case of mistaken identity. I am personally familiar with Malfoy, and if they accidentally grabbed the wrong man, I would release him and try to smooth over any ruffled feathers."

"Damn it, Weasley! Don't you ever read anything but the Quiddich scores in the sports pages of the _Prophet_? Draco Malfoy married into the LeFavre family months ago and disowned his family name. HE is Drake LeFavre! AND he has diplomatic immunity. He is a Quebec diplomat with all of the privileges that entails. Anything that he may have done here in Britain is moot, not only because of his diplomatic status, but because of the Statute of Limitations. I expect this matter to be straightened out _immediately!_"

Ron gulped. "Yes, SIR! I will get down there and release him now." Scrimgeour's head disappeared from the fireplace, but Ron knew that he had not heard the last of this. The first time that Harry left for any length of time, leaving Ron in charge, and the dragon dung hits the air circulation charm! He grabbed the keys to the holding cells and started downstairs, all the while cursing that _git_ Malfoy. Once again that inbred idiot managed to come out on top, and once again it was at a Weasley's expense.

When Ron reached the holding cell, he saw Draco sitting on the bench, head in hands, looking like hell. Well, Ron thought, twin stunners to the noggin will do that for you. He took a moment to file the sight of Malfoy sitting behind bars into his favorite memories, right along side the memory of Malfoy being turned into a white ferret by the phony Mad-Eye Moody back in fourth year. Unfortunately, just like that memory, this one would not be a permanent situation. He cleared his throat and Malfoy, no, _LeFavre_ looked up.

"Ah, _Weasel._ I should have known that you would have been somehow involved in this cock-up. I am surprised that the Golden Boy didn't come down himself to gloat. Where is he hiding?"

"Mr. Mal- er, _LeFavre_, Chief Potter is on holiday. I want to apologise for the aurors arresting you. They had not been informed of your new status." Ron unlocked the door and crossed his fingers, not only for luck, but because apologizing to Malfoy _felt_ like a lie. Draco made no move to leave.

"Not nearly good enough. I suppose that you know of my diplomatic status?" At Ron's nod, he continued. "I demand to see my Head of Delegation from the Quebec embassy. I will not move until this is done. You are NOT going to sweep this one under the rug! Well, what are you waiting for? I don't plan on languishing in this gaol of yours much longer."

"_Malfoy,_" Ron hissed. "You are not exactly languishing, you can leave now. I will get your Ambassador, but I am not locking the door, either to this cell or to the exit. I realize that right now you are holding the cards, and I will act accordingly. I was hoping that maybe you would have changed, but I can see you are still the same git that you were in Hogwarts, just more untouchable." With that, Ron turned on his heel and left, the cell door wide open. He knew that he was in deep _kimchee_, but had no idea just what this was going to cost him.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

_Quebec Embassy_

_London._

Jean Luc turned away from the fireplace with a satisfied smile. Drake had apparently played his cards perfectly and now the Brits were falling all over themselves. He took out his communication mirror and called out, "Pierre LeFavre!"

Within seconds, the old man's image filled the mirror. "Jean Luc! What do you have to report?"

"_Granpere, _you were, of course, correct. The Brits did arrest Drake and he has them begging for mercy. The Deputy Chief of the DMLE called here saying that Drake will not leave his cell until he meets with the Quebec Ambassador. Should I bring Leon up to speed on this or go myself? I doubt that they would be able to tell one LeFavre from another."

Pierre laughed. "Leon is a bit, how do you say it, rough around the edges. I will tell you what. Do you have any polyjuice potion?"

"But of course."

"Get one of Leon's hairs and go as him. I don't believe that Leon could pull this one off, he is too new to the post. I do want you to show him your memories of the meeting though, that way he can learn. Remember, publicly embarrass them, take them to the wall, then back off a bit. We will make it up in the conference. Maybe we can finally get through the roadblocks that the Brits have been putting up to the Law Enforcement agreement."

"_Bon. _I will do as you say. _Avoir, Granpere"_ With that, Jean Luc closed the cover to the secure communication mirror and went looking for Leon LeFavre.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

_International Wizarding Civil Liberties Union_

Hermione Granger apparated into her office and quickly located the misplaced communications mirror. She tucked it into her purse, picked up the telephone, and called her assistant. In two rings, the phone was picked up.

"Miranda here."

"Miranda, Hermione here. I wanted to ask you about that quote that you gave to Rita Skeeter last night."

"Wasn't that just _awesome?_ I can't believe that the stormtroopers would snatch a diplomat off the street like that!"

"Miranda, those _stormtroopers_ as you call them, are a professional police force called the DMLE, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They are headed by Chief Harry Potter, who not only rid our world of Lord Voldemort, but who is one of the sweetest people you would ever want to meet. I should know, I have been one of his two closest friends since we were eleven years old. His other closest friend is Ron Weasley, who is not only his Deputy Chief, but is also my _husband!"_

"Oops… Ms. Granger, do you think that you might be just a little bit too close to the situation? After all, pigs are pigs no matter what country you are in, except of course in enlightened places like Cuba and maybe North Korea."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. She was starting to get a headache. "Miranda, Miranda. I can see that you need to have some training in media relations. Not to mention you need to get out of your reactionary cocoon and actually _meet_ some of the people that you are dismissing as pigs. In a case like last night, the proper thing to do would have been to tell that insect reporter that you had not heard what happened and that until you got the whole story that the IWCLU has no comment. It's a bit late to put the potion back in the cauldron now, but Monday I will tell you all about Harry Potter, Rita Skeeter, and the _diplomat_ Drake LeFavre, formerly Draco Malfoy."


	13. Notice

Important Notice

**Important Notice!**

_To the readers of my various scribblings:_

_I have made references to my failing health before in these Authors Notes; I feel I need to let you know just what is going on and the reason I have not been updating the stories._

_For the past few months, my memory has become very faulty due to some of the medications I have been taking. It has also affected my energy levels. This last Wednesday, July 9, I went to the hospital emergency room for admission to care for an infection in my left leg called cellulitis. While there, my blood pressure dropped to a low of 75/40 and I suffered a major heart attack. I was air-lifted to a more capable medical centre 40 miles away, where I was poked, prodded, injected, and more or less tested to the point where I thought I was being nibbled to death by ducks._

_The upshot of all of this is that I now know that my heart has quite a bit of dead tissue, I have two arteries that have 100 percent blockage, and a leaky heart valve. The hospital I was in believed I was not a good candidate for surgery due to the higher than average risk that I would not wake up after the operation, at least not in this plane of existence. I have therefore made arrangements to send my medical records to one of the premier cardiac surgeons in the U.S. at Northwestern University Medical Center in Chicago. He is supposed to look at them, then call me in for a consultation._

_Twenty-one years ago, my mother faced the same decision, to have bypass surgery with even worse odds than what I am facing. When she was told by the surgeon that she only had a fifty percent chance of waking up, or that she would only live a short while under very poor circumstances as a heart cripple, her words to the doctor were: "Swing for the fences!" For you non baseball fans, this means to put your all into your time at bat and try for a home run. Unfortunately, he struck out and she died on the operating table. Had she survived the operation, she could have had 10 or 15 productive years._

_I am 50 years old, I have a 13 year old daughter, a 9 year old daughter, a loving wife of twenty years who still fills me with wonderment and joy every time I wake up next to her in the morning. I also have three grandchildren I have never seen. I can do no less than my mother did; I shall also tell the man with the knife that he should 'swing for the fences'. _

_This does mean that I will be taking the time prior to my surgery to put my affairs in order and spend every available moment with the people I love so much. If anyone would like to adopt any of these stories, I would like to see them finished. Should you like to take over a story, just send me a personal message or look up my email address on my profile._

_Thank you and God Bless,_

_Jack, aka Hamilton Wrye_


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